


Another Happy Hour

by LondonGypsy



Series: Happy Hour [2]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's again, it's London and it's not what Steve expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Happy Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I should warn you - this one has NO happy ending!! The boys just didnt listen to me, they're stubborn bastards and there was nothing I could do! But there's porn so I hope that makes up a bit... *shrugs* 
> 
> As always - huge Thanks to my beloved SuperWhoLockGypsy for the amazing Beta!! You rock, Darlin!! ♥

 

_**London, 2012**_

 

Steve stretches and yawns loudly, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. He snorts and rolls onto his other side; it's still too early to be awake, even though the weak winter sun is throwing its watery beams into the room. 

A knock on the door causes him to groan. 

“Go away,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he hears giggles from the hall. 

He pushes the covers away and pats to the door. He opens it and peeks out onto Sophia's familiar face. 

“Geez, woman, do you have any idea how late it is?” he grumbles, desperately trying to wrestle a few more hours of sleep out of her competent hands. 

She only raises an eyebrow at him and taps on her wrist. 

“Dude...” 

He sighs and opens the door fully to let her in. 

“Don't tell me you slept until now,” she asks, wandering to the window and pushing it open. 

Steve squeaks and jumps back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. 

“It's fucking cold,” he protests from under the sheets, but she only laughs at him. 

“Ohh, please, you never freeze, stop fooling around. I’ve arranged lunch for you, are you not hungry?” 

Of course his stomach starts grumbling, and he curses lowly as he crawls out of bed. 

He glares at her and walks to the bathroom. 

“I hate you.” 

She only laughs her warm laugh at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Do you need anything?” 

Steve shakes his head, and the last thing he hears before closing the door is her quiet rant about musicians and their habit of sleeping all day long. 

She's the good soul of his overseas trips, takes care of him, both for business and personal; he would be lost without her and they both know it. 

He smiles as he turns on the shower, sighing happily as the hot water loosens the kinks in his back. 

His thoughts start to wander; he wished he were back home. He misses his family and his friends, even though he agreed to play a few gigs around Christmas here, but he had hoped to be back in L.A. for New Year's. But the weather was acting up and a huge snowstorm has crushed his plans; flights got canceled and so far it doesn't look as if that would change anytime soon. 

Of course Sophia has taken care of everything so he had nothing to worry about. 

Nothing other than his usual New Year’s Eve tradition. 

He sighs and turns off the water. Usually he can keep _that_ thought at bay but apparently not today. 

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, but one name drifts through his head and just doesn’t want to go away. 

While he gets dressed his mind wanders back to that fateful New Year's Eve 10 years ago. 

To Christian. 

To those blue eyes he just can't forget, and to that mouth he could've kissed forever. 

_Time heals all wounds_ ; yeah right, fuck that. 

They had spent two of the most amazing days - and nights - Steve thinks, sighing wistfully, at the hotel, not leaving the room once. 

Steve groans as he remembers how sore he'd been after those days, though he had never felt better in his entire life. 

But, and Steve cringes at the thought, the time came that they had to say goodbye. 

They had exchanged numbers, of course, and Steve had called Christian only minutes after he left just to find out that the number was invalid. Christian must've made a mistake in writing it down; he had told him that he just gotten a new one. 

Steve had jumped into his clothes, raced down in the lobby just to see the cab with Christian driving around the corner. He had cursed a lot but it hadn’t helped. He could only hope that Christian would call him. 

He never called. Not once. 

Steve had walked around the next few weeks in a trance. Nobody was able to get to him, nobody understood that he was so down after a one-night-stand. His friends only shook their heads at him. 

But for Steve it had been so much more than just one night. He had felt a connection with the other man and he knew that Christian had felt the same. 

Nobody knew but they had actually talked a lot those nights in that hotel, just laying side by side, hands playing thoughtfully with each other, sharing their dreams and thoughts on almost everything. 

But the one thing they hadn’t talked about was where they lived or what they did for a living; it just didn't come up. 

So Steve hadn’t had any chance to reach the man, he didn’t have an address or another phone number, hell, not even an email as Christian said he didn’t own a computer, which, back then, gave Steve a 5-minute laughing fit. 

Steve had tried to find him, he had called every single soul he knew in the music business because Christian had told him that he wanted to try and make a living with his music. 

Steve had pulled every string he could think of, harassed every bar and club in LA, but nobody seemed to know the guy with those piercing blue eyes and that heart-melting smile. 

Slowly but surely he'd gotten back to his own life, but Christian was imprinted in his heart - he would never forget him. 

Once in a while, a raspy voice or broad shoulders stirred him but it was never _his_ man, and Steve had gotten used to the thought that he would never see him again. 

But that had never hindered him from going back to that bar, year after year, always on New Year’s, just to sit there, waiting, hoping for Christian to show up.

He never did. Neither he himself or any of the friends Steve had seen there with him; he always kept an eye open for them as well, but nothing. 

It seemed like Christian and everyone associated with him had just vanished from the earth. 

Now the man and the time they had together is only a treasured memory, buried deep inside Steve's soul and he usually lives pretty well with it. 

Only on New Year's does it up and he gets mellow and reminiscent. 

This year isn't different, it's actually worse because he can't be home and can't go to that bar, and he has a bitter feeling about it. 

He shakes it off, though, grabbing a sweater and heading down into the lobby where Sophia is waiting for him. 

“So,” he says, as they wander towards the restaurant, “what have you planned for me tonight?” 

She looks at him and grins very untypically at him. 

“What?” he asks, suddenly wary and suspicious; she only looks at him like that when she has another evil idea on her mind. 

“Well,” she grins, nodding at a table in the back of the restaurant, “what do you think about a little New Year's Eve gig?” 

Steve stares at her, a hand on the back of his chair, taken by surprise. 

“Seriously, Sophe?? It's fucking New Year's and you want me to _work_??" 

He mutters curses as he sits down but deep inside he's smiling; he's pretty sure she does this on purpose to distract him from the meaning of this day. 

“Oh, shush. You know you want it...C'mon, it's the _Halfmoon_ ,"  she says, playing her best card. Everybody knows he loves the venue with its small stage and the general coziness of the club, 

“That’s just mean,” he growls but a small smirk twitches over his lips. 

She grins contently and hands him the menu. 

“Good thing your guitar is stuck here with you,” she says, winking at him and he laughs. 

And for the first time in a while it feels good. 

 *

As he wanders into the _Halfmoon_ his heart jumps a little; he really loves this place. It was recently renovated and everything looks fresh and shiny, the faint smell of paint still in the air. 

He lets his eyes wander; the place is buzzing with energy, laughter soars through the air, and Steve feels a little less homesick. 

He follows Sophia to the back of the venue, coiling through the people and enjoying the feeling of moving freely in a crowd. Nobody cares about him tonight, he's just another guy with a guitar, trying to win the people over with music and his voice. 

Backstage she gets him a drink and disappears, leaving him alone for a while. 

He thinks of making a set list but then discards the idea, he's just going to wing it tonight. 

“Steve? You ready?” 

He looks up from tuning his guitar and something in her face has him frown. 

“Sophe?? Everything okay?” 

He stands and hurries to her side. 

She smirks at him, nods, and shoos him away. 

“Yeah, I'm fine. So, if you're ready, we are, too.” 

Steve looks at her again but she only smiles and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, knowing it's better not to argue with her. 

He grabs his guitar, takes one last sip of his drink, and exhales. 

When he comes out on stage the first thing he notices are a couple of familiar faces in the crowd and he grins; he should've known that Sophia would make sure some of his UK friends would show up tonight. 

He nods and gives a little wave to them as he settles onto the stool, fingers already sliding softly over the strings. 

“Happy New Year's Eve,” he greets the crowd, feeling the warm rush of adrenaline course through his veins, the same feeling that he always gets when he's on stage. 

“I guess you guys are stuck with me tonight,” he jokes, getting comfortable on his stool to start his first song. 

It feels different from every other gig he has played here; the room is packed and everybody seems to be having a good time. Some people are clapping and swaying to his songs, others are talking quietly but Steve isn't offended. He's not the main act tonight; he is just playing as entertainment, more like the music in the background and it feels oddly okay. 

He plays through the set list in his head, skips his famous songs, he even played one or two cover songs he normally never does. 

It's getting closer to midnight and his choice of songs gets a little more quiet, a little toned down; memories are filling his head and his heart. 

He finishes his recent song and plucks a bit on the strings, considering his next one. Bits and pieces of lyrics float through his head and without thinking any further he starts playing. 

He has zoned out; he doesn't see the people anymore as his gaze goes back into the past. 

“ _It’s all I could do to keep from cryin’_  
 _It was all that I could do to turn and walk away_  
 _And when I found there was no use left in tryin’_  
 _I decided there was no need for me to even make you stay_

_But all that I ever wanted was inside of you_  
 _All that I ever wanted was inside of you_  
 _You know it breaks me down every once in a while_  
 _And it paves the way for the truth_  
 _That I don’t know you_  
 _No I don’t know you_  
 _But all that I ever wanted was inside of you_

_Now I’m sitting in a city that makes no sense and I_  
 _Don’t know why I live inside of this fence but I will_  
 _Wait another year here_  
 _And who knows by then maybe you’ll go away and I’ll_  
 _Replace this face that’s been stained on my brain if I can_  
 _Wait another year here_

_Cause all that I ever wanted was inside of you...”_

And while he sings, lost in the music, he feels how his heart breaks, silent and unseen. Not that there had ever been anything real - they hadn't had a relationship or anything, only those two nights an eon ago. But he had never given up hope, never really stopped looking, searching for the man he lost his heart to. 

Now he does; at this very moment he lets go of all the faith he still had and it hurts. 

His voice trembles, his hands fall off the guitar and he just sits there, empty and lost. 

Faintly he feels the hand on his arm that leads him off stage, but his eyes are still blind. 

“Hey, Steve?? Are you with me? Steve, talk to me, c'mon.” 

The voice drifts slowly in his consciousness and he looks up, blinking a few times before his vision clears. 

“Hmmm?” 

Sophia looks at him, worry and concern clearly written on her face. 

“Are you okay? You looked like you were going to fall off of the stage,” she says and hands him a glass of some golden liquid. 

He empties it in one gulp and the alcohol burns hot in his throat. 

“Yeah, I'm okay,” he replies, trying to smile but failing. 

He swallows and reaches for her hand. 

“Listen, I need a moment, 'kay? You think...?” 

She pats his shoulder, still permeating concern about it but as always she does what he wants. 

“Sure. I'm here if you need me.” 

She gives him a quick smile and vanishes into the crowd. 

Steve leans against the bar, wrapped up in his own head, not noticing anything around him. 

Everything seems meaningless, nothing is making sense and still, now it's perfectly clear. 

The rational part of his brain tells him to leave, go back to his hotel and sleep until he can go home. 

But he has never been that much of a rationalist. He orders a drink, downing the shot within seconds and orders another one right away. 

Maybe the alcohol can fill the hole in his soul, or at least numb it. 

He has his fourth drink as a hand rests on his shoulder. 

“Hello Steve...” 

Steve freezes. This can't be true, can't be real, he must be even more drunk than he thought. 

He turns, feeling as if he's underwater; everything is blurry and then there are those blue eyes, wide with shock, on him. 

“I'm dreaming, aren’t I?” 

Steve flinches as he hears the battling emotions in his own voice. He stares into Christian's face, adrenaline rushing wildly through his veins as he recognizes the man in front of him. 

It's been ten fucking years but the man hasn't changed much. Sure, he 's gotten older, wrinkles, lines and simple age has sharpened his features, but there's still the young guy under it Steve had met. Steve sees the sparks in his eyes, sees the engraved lines around them from laughing and notices the scar in his eyebrow and below his chin. 

Life didn’t pass by on him but it has treated him well, he looks like a man who has found his place in life. 

Although, right now, his mouth is twitching and the pulse on his neck is racing; Steve sees all that with a weird clearness. 

“No, you ain’t dreaming,” Christian whispers, one hand lifts but then he lets it fall back and shoves both deep in his jeans pockets. 

Time stands still; sounds are muffled while Steve stares. 

Very slowly he lifts a hand and puts it on the sleeve of Christian's jacket. The touch of rough fabric against his fingertips has him gasp in shock; his nerves feel like they're burning and every single hair on his body raises. 

He tugs on the jacket, rubbing it between his fingers as his gaze focuses on his own hand, trying to understand why his brain would play such a cruel joke on him. 

A big hand comes into his line of sight and lowers on his, stopping his motions. The palm against his skin is cool and he faintly notices the familiar roughness of calluses against his knuckles. 

“Steve, it's me. I'm real.” 

The sound of his own name, growled in that hoarse, velvet smooth tone snaps something inside Steve's head and he jerks back, staring at the other man with huge eyes. 

“Why did you never call??” he hisses, anger, pain, sorrow and accusation all mixed up in those words. 

Christian flinches, taking a step back and Steve's hand slides off of his arm, just falling down, but Steve has only eyes for his face. 

So many emotions flicker over it, like little waves on a pond, one covering the other. 

Steve can make out pain and regret, despair and frustration but suddenly Christian's face goes blank and shocks Steve to his inner core with its coldness. 

“You didn’t call either.” 

His lips are barely moving but there's something in the way he stands, a vibe that has Steve take a step back. 

“Because you gave me the fucking wrong number. I tried, God, I tried so hard to find you...” 

Steve can only hush the words, he knows if he tries to speak in a normal voice he would start to yell. 

“The fucking wrong number,” he repeats quietly, tearing his eyes away from the man, suddenly feeling dead tired.

There's silence, so long Steve thinks he has left but as he glances up again, Christian is still there, biting his lower lip and apparently trying to find words. 

“I'm so fucking sorry. So sorry...” 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tears prickle behind the lids. 

“So much time...wasted...” he murmurs more to himself than to Christian but the low rumble of him cursing vehemently makes his head shoot up. 

Their eyes lock and Steve groans helplessly. So many emotions showing now, not hidden anymore, clearly visible on his sharp face. 

The world stops turning as Steve drowns in Christian's blue eyes. He unconsciously moves closer, an overwhelming urge to touch makes him raise his hand again. 

“Honey, there you are, I've been looking for you everywhere...” 

The high-pitched voice hurts Steve's ears and he cringes. He sees Christian scowl and then there's a whirlwind of brown hair and black feathers in front of Steve. 

He slumps against the bar as Christian's gaze leaves him; he can't feel his knees anymore and he's glad for the wooden counter in his back. 

Numbed he watches as the tiny woman throws her arms around Christian's neck and pulling him down into a quick kiss before she swirls around, sharp eyes scanning him before a smile curls her pink lips. 

“Hi, you must be a friend of Chris’. Nice to see he knows at least somebody here, I tell him all the time he needs to go out more, staying at home all the time can't be healthy...” 

Steve stares at her, not able to catch up with the pace of her talking. She's pretty, long brown waves fall around her face, tanned and flawless. Her gold-brown eyes are clear and huge which gives her the look of a cute puppy. She cocks her head and her gaze jumps between Christian and Steve, back and forth, clearly waiting to get introduced. 

“Honey?” she asks eventually, nudging her elbow in Christian's side who shakes his head and looks at her. 

“Oh.. yeah, sure... uhm. Steve, this is Carrie, my... my....” 

He stumbles over the words and she playfully slaps his arm, giggling. 

“His wife. Nice to meet you, Steve, always a pleasure to meet friends of Chris’.” 

Steve didn’t think he could feel any more numb; shock takes his breath away. 

“You're married?” he croaks, not caring how that would sound to her. 

Christian nods trance-like, avoiding looking Steve in the eyes. 

Steve loses it, his stomach rolls and cold sweat breaks out on his neck and palms. 

“Excuse me,” he mutters, spinning around and storms towards the restrooms, pushing rudely against people in his way. He stumbles into a stall, feeling bitter bile filling his mouth. He falls on his knees and heaves, clinging to the cold porcelain. 

After his stomach is empty, he slides to the floor, leaning against the wall, panting and sweating. 

“Married...” he whispers tonelessly into the empty room, “fucking married...” 

He repeats the word over and over again, like a mantra, ignoring his aching heart and the tears running over his face. 

His back starts aching and he scrambles to his feet, staggering to the sink. He splashes water in his face and rinses his mouth. 

A noise from the door makes him look up; for the second time tonight his breath escapes his lungs and he freezes in place. 

Christian peaks through the half open door before he hesitantly enters; he leans against the door, hands pressed hard against the wood. 

The bright lights throw harsh shadows over his face; his cheekbones look carved, sharp and dark against his light skin. 

They stare at each other, not moving or saying a word. 

Steve's stomach is still slowly rolling and he bites his lip, causing a tiny moan from the other man. 

“Steve...”

“Fuck you,” Steve snarls, suddenly filled with hot rage and fury, boiling through his veins. 

“Steve...please...let me explain...” 

Christian pushes away from the door but Steve holds his hands up, backing away. 

“No...don't...I … can't... no...” 

The hot rush of wrath is gone as quickly as it came and he doesn't have the strength. He's close to sobbing, he can't bear it anymore, it is too much for him. One thought is on loop in his head, though, and he needs to know. 

“Why?” he asks with a breaking voice, “why, Christian? Why did you never call me?” 

He doesn't look up, he doesn't want to see Christian's face but he holds his breath, waiting for the other one to answer. 

He hears a long sigh, a hem and then: 

“I wanted... as soon as I left...but then I thought... give you time...thought, you might call first...” 

Steve snorts unhappily but keeps quiet. 

“But the longer I waited the more I thought and ... I wasn’t really out, still ain’t ...”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Steve hisses and Christian sighs again. 

“Steve, please, I was confused ... scared to death actually ... and…the longer I thought about you and me... us and that time, the more scared I got ... and then ... I just couldn’t call... I couldn’t... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you either... you were in my dreams...every fucking night…I couldn’t forget you.” 

He exhales heavily and Steve glimpses through his lashes; Christian is still standing by the door, wrenching his hands, glancing at him with pleading eyes. 

“God, please, Steve, understand me, I was trying to get a foot into the music scene and I couldn’t … I mean, gay guys don’t sell any records, do they? I was desperately trying to make my dream come true, I didn’t want to lose what I've been wanting my entire life...” 

“Well, I hope it was worth it.” 

Steve feels hollow, drained and just wants to leave. He straightens his back, not looking at the other man and walks towards the door, but Christian keeps blocking it. 

“Fuck, please, listen to me...

“Just let me go,” Steve says weakly, trying to push past the other man. 

Christian's shakes his head repeatedly, holding onto the door. 

“Listen, I fucked up, okay? I know that. I couldn’t forget you, I tried, tried so fucking hard. After a while I realized what an ass I was and I tried to call you but the number you gave me wasn’t valid anymore. I've spent most of the time looking for you in L.A. Everywhere... I didn’t find you... and then I met Carrie. She... she's sweet and when I'm with her, I don’t … I mean, you've seen her, she's so full of life and she makes me forget what I need the most ... and can't have...” 

He swallows audible and reaches out for Steve who jerks back, staring at the hand, hovering in the air between them. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me you fucking married a woman to not have to come out? How fucking insane is that? It's 2011, asshole, gay ain’t that big of a thing anymore. Just shut the fuck up and let me out, just...” 

He slaps Christian's hand away and pushes against him, wanting to shove him out of his way. 

Everything happens so fast and before Steve can even blink he's pressed roughly against the cold tiles; he would laugh at the déjà vu it causes but fury is bubbling up again and he hisses through gritted teeth. 

“Fuck off, leave me alone...” 

Christian's hands are closed hard around his wrists and he growls lowly at him.

“No, listen...” 

“I don’t want to hear your bullshit, let me go.” 

Christian's mouth is on his before he can say anything more. He's laying claim on Steve as if he belongs to him, lips and teeth, growling desperately against his flesh. 

And Steve stops fighting, stops thinking and loses himself in a kiss so desperate and needy, trying to make up for ten years of longing.

All those years of loneliness, of despair and suffering fall off of them, giving way for pure, raw want, making both men shake heavily at the bone-crushing desire for the other one. 

Christian's tongue dives deep into Steve's mouth, curls hungrily around Steve's and he's moaning loudly at the familiar taste; so many years and the man still tastes the same. 

Steve clings to him, Christian's arms are around him, pressing him hard against his body, urging closer, wanting to become one with him. 

Steve feels the fabric of the shirt under his hands where they're fisted in Christian's tee, feels the pressure of his legs against his own. Christian's smell, unique and intoxicating fills Steve's mind but all of his focus is on the feeling and the taste of Christian in his mouth. His lips are sealed over his, and he lays all his emotions into that one kiss, as if trying to show Steve how badly he fucked up. 

Steve wants to forget everything, wants to stay like this for the rest of his time, wants to ignore the fact that Christian is a fucking married man. 

But he can't, and as they break apart and gasp for air he uses the last bit of strength he still has and slips out of Christian's grip and through the door. In the main room he frantically searches for Sophia. He finds her by the stage, talking to a few people. He hurries over and pulls her aside not caring about the weird looks he gets. 

“Can you take care of my guitar? I need to get outta here...” 

She looks at him, frowning but nods irritated. 

“Sure, but...” 

“Thanks.” 

Steve grabs his jacket laying on the side of the stage and almost runs to the exit. 

 *

He stumbles outside, not caring that he bumps into people every now and then. 

Away, far far away, that's all he can think of as he scurries down the street, trying to get as much space between Christian and himself as he can. 

The streets are filled with people, setting up their fireworks, drinking, laughing but Steve doesn't really see it. 

His eyes are filled with unshed tears, blurring his vision, but he doesn't stop. 

It's cold out, and the wind blows harshly in his face, cooling his heated cheeks. 

After a couple of minutes, though, he's panting, and finally he slows down, his steps getting heavier and he shuffles along the sidewalk. 

Without realizing it he had stumbled into a quieter part of town; there's a little park to his left, dark and abandoned and he walks inside. He finds a bench and falls on it, not caring about the cold that embraces him as soon as he's not moving anymore. 

Trees are whooshing in the gusts and the darkness is almost perfect, only some premature fireworks lighting up the black sky once in a while. 

He slumps against the freezing metal, head tilted up and staring into the sky, but he doesn't see the colorful sparkles. He only sees Christian's face, his blue eyes, and he sobs, tears streaming down his cold face. 

Just as he finally gave up, just as he decided to let the memory of him go he shows up, turning his entire world upside down. 

Steve buries his face in his hands; his thoughts are racing but he still can't think straight. It's just too much. 

The combined burst of fireworks exploding over his head has him jerk up; far away he hears yelling and laughing as midnight must have finally come. 

And suddenly his mind just goes blank, all of those running and tumbling thoughts are still there but he can't really grasp a single one of them. He wipes his face on his sleeve and stares blindly into the sky again, now painted in all colors of the rainbow, sparkling and bright. 

The cold creeps under his thin clothes and he shudders heavily, teeth clattering and hands shaking but he still doesn't move. 

It's Sophia who finds him, quietly trembling all over, fingertips and toes numb, and she curses a blue streak as she pulls him up. 

He follows her mindlessly, sits in the cab she calls, hears her scolding him but it doesn't really register. He faintly notices that they pull up at his hotel and she pushes him out of the car. 

She doesn't stop ranting, her words a steady stream of sound as she grabs him by the arm and drags him to his room. 

She helps him out of his jacket, leads him to a chair and makes him sit down. 

“Here, drink that,” she says, handing him a glass and mechanically Steve obliges. 

It's whiskey and it burns a hot stream through his body, warming his limbs and making him notice how fucking cold he is. His teeth start chattering again, and his hands are trembling so hard he almost drops the glass. 

“Bloody hell, what happened, Steve?? Talk to me, please.” 

Her worried voice slowly drifts into his mind and he looks blindly at her, shaking his head in slow motions. 

“He's fucking married,” he whispers as if that'd explain everything.

“Who's married?? Jesus, Steve, you're scaring the hell outta me.” 

“Christian, he's married and ...and...” 

Steve swallows audibly, still shaking his head repeatedly. 

“I'm tired,” he mumbles suddenly, “so damn tired...” 

He carefully sets the glass on the table and gets up. For a second he just stands there, taking a few deep breaths before he staggers to the bed. He sits down, pulls his shoes off and sets them neatly side-by-side. He looks up and at Sophia, slightly wondering about the concerned look on her lovely face. 

“So fucking tired...” he says again and crawls fully dressed under the covers. 

The pillow is soft and cool against his burning cheeks and the sheets smell like lilies.

He curls around himself, pulling his knees as far up as possible and wraps his arms around them. 

His eyes close and he glides into the merciful unconsciousness, giving him the relief of forgetting. 

 *

“I don’t know, Faith, I don’t bloody know. He is scaring the hell outta me...nah, he's sleeping now... What?? No, I have no idea...yeah, thanks. Call me if you know more.” 

Steve hears the quiet voice, hears the words but after a quick moment he notices that he doesn't really care. He rolls around, pulling the covers over his head and slips back into sleep. 

 *

“Steve?? Hon, you have to wake up. Please...” 

Steve curls around himself even more than he already is, squeezing his eyes shut, slowly shaking his head. 

He doesn't want to be awake, doesn't want to face the world, doesn't want to…live? The thought shoots through his head, only briefly, but he shivers and clings to the covers as Sophia tries to pull them away. 

“Steve, for the love of God, please.” 

“Go away.” 

His voice sounds strange, as if it doesn't belong to him, but he clings to the sheets and with a deep sigh she lets go. 

He hears her wander through the room before he drifts back to his weird dreams, seeking oblivion in the dark. 

 *

“Enough's enough. Get your ass outta bed, boy or imma personally kick it outta there!” 

This voice is new, but Steve's unconsciousness recognizes it and he groans. 

“Leave me alone,” he mutters, but deep down inside he knows she won't let him get away with it. 

“The fuck I will,” she growls and suddenly the covers are gone and he protests weakly. 

“Get your ass outta bed, Carlson, and talk to us. What the fuck happened??” 

Steve blinks into the bright lights, and then Faith's face is right in front of him, glaring at him with an icy look in her brown eyes. 

“C'mon, man, spill. There's nothing that can't be fixed, you just need to talk to us.” 

She hops onto the bed, making Steve move and out of the blue there's a mug with steaming coffee under his nose. 

“Faith...” Sophia's warning tone is faint but Steve hears it and Faith grins sheepishly, settling on the bed, watching Steve closely. 

“Okay, drink your coffee, wake up and then you spill... Deal?” 

Sophia snorts but leaves her alone as she sits on the chair by the window. 

Steve holds on to the mug in his hands and carefully he takes a sip. The hot brew tastes weird but Steve drinks it anyway, slowly feeling the caffeine waking him up. 

But with that the grief comes back, hot and harsh, making his stomach churn and his heart hurt. 

He moans silently and Faith scowls at him. 

“Steve,” she says, unusually soft, laying a hand on his arm, “you know, you can always talk to us. Please, we're worried as hell here. Sophe told me she saw you talking to a guy before the night went to the shits. Who...?” 

“Christian.” Steve whispers, clenching his hands around the mug, trying to breathe. Even saying his name shoots flashes of pain through his body. 

“That was your Christian?" Sophia interrupts from her place at the window, sitting straight up.

Faith's gaze flickers between her and Steve back and forth, understanding forming on her face. 

“As in the ' _OMG I cant forget him not even after 10 year_ s' Christian??" she asks incredulously.  

Steve only nods. 

They know, of course; he had told them the first time he came back over after those nights, broken and shattered. They had taken care of him as they always do, and it was only because of them that he survived the tour. 

“I had no idea...” Sophia hushes, her face suddenly pale as she looks at Steve. Something in her tone makes him sit up.

“What?” he asks, “what is it?” 

She avoids his eyes and stands, wandering restlessly through the room. 

Faith squirms as Steve throws her a questioning look and he knows that something is up. 

“What the fuck? Ladies, c'mon, you know something... tell me...” he insists, his tone sharp now. 

Sophia glances at him before she walks to the window, looking into the bright day. 

“I know him,” she says softly and turns to face Steve, “he used to play a couple of venues here, London bound and for a few years now, mostly in the summer. He's good, really good...” 

She trails off; Steve wants to jump out of the bed and shake her, make her tell him everything but he knows that won’t help. So he waits. 

“He calls himself Kane, mostly he played alone, sometimes he had somebody with him... Steve, I would've never thought... I had no idea... I mean, you told us what he looked like, but damn, how was I supposed to know...” 

She falls on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Steve and strokes his arm. 

“I'm so sorry... we didn’t know.” 

Both women's looks are identical now and Steve's head is spinning. 

“And he used to play the same venues you did,” Faith adds quietly, biting her lip as Sophia slaps her arm and shakes her head. 

All three are silent, each of them deep in thought, musing how and why fate can be so cruel. 

Faith is the one who breaks the silence and jumps to her feet. 

“Be right back,” she says and is out of the room before Steve and Sophia can even react. 

They look at each other; Steve feels fatigue and despair filling up in him again. It doesn't really help to know that he played the same stages the other man did; they probably just missed each other only by a few days or so. 

He sets the mug on the nightstand and with a hard glance at Sophia he shifts and pulls the covers back over him. 

Sophia sighs and the mattress dips as she gets up; Steve hears the gentle click of the door as she also leaves the room, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts. 

 *

Steve has no idea what day it is, or what time; he's drifting in and out of consciousness, hiding in sleep, only getting up to shuffle to the bathroom. 

Sophia checks on him once in a while but she just sighs when she sees him, curled up under the covers. 

She doesn't bother him anymore to get up but she still brings him food he doesn't want, and just takes it away when he doesn't touch it. 

Time has no meaning anymore; days fade into nights, light becomes dark and light again but Steve doesn't care. 

Every breath hurts and it's hard work to take the next one. 

Sleep becomes his best friend and he's always glad when the blackness washes over him and takes reality away. 

 *

“Sophia!!” 

Steve hears Faith's voice in one of his short waking moments but he doesn't pay attention; they'll go away eventually, they always do. 

He hears whispering, and something in the tone makes him peek out of his nest of covers and pillows. Sophia stands by the door, her knuckles white because she's clinging to the knob, hindering Faith’s attempts to come in. 

That's weird, Steve thinks absently, why would she do that? 

“No, I said no, you won't do that to him” 

She's almost hissing, which is something Steve has never heard her do, and he sits up. 

“What is it?” he asks with a voice that sounds just as hoarse as he feels. 

“Nothing,” Sophia snarls but Faith uses the moment to push the door open and Steve catches a glimpse of dark hair and the well-known shape of broad shoulders. 

He whimpers; it's only a tiny sound but it makes Sophia move. 

She stands in Faith's way, shaking her head over and over again, blocking Steve's view outside. 

But the younger woman seems determined. 

“Soph, they have to settle this. Don’t you see how it is destroying him...” she says softly as Sophia throw a quick glance at Steve, who watches them with widened eyes. 

She sighs deeply, her shoulders slump and she steps aside. 

And there's Christian, dark curls, blue eyes and an insecure expression on his face. 

“Hurt him and I hurt you,” Faith snarls lowly towards him, shoves him into the room and pulls Sophia out. 

“We're right around the corner, Stevie,” she coos, drilling her eyes into Steve's before she closes the door. 

Christian doesn't move and neither does Steve; they stare at each other across the room. Steve feels his heart beating heavily in his throat and the blood's rushing in his ears. 

“Hey,” Christian says, hemming as his voice breaks. Slowly he walks further into the room, hesitant, almost careful before he stops in the middle of the room. 

“May...may I?” he asks and motions towards a chair at the window. 

Steve feels the sudden urge to laugh hysterically but he clenches his fists and nods. 

He watches Christian walk to the chair and sit, nervously wrenching his hands. 

Steve shifts into a sitting position, pulls his knees up and slings his arms around them. 

His thoughts are empty so he just stares, letting his eyes run over the other man, drinking in every little thing: the few lights strands in his dark hair, the frown on his forehead, the stiff way he sits there. 

The sunlight falling through the window makes clear that he has aged but in a good way; he's beautiful and Steve groans quietly. 

“What do you want here?” he grumbles, trying to control his voice. 

Christian flinches as the words cut through the perfect silence but before he can answer Steve sits up a bit further. 

“And how the hell did you find me?” 

A bitter smile flickers over Christian's face. 

“Faith.” 

Steve rolls his eyes; of course. Who else would've been able to find him now that she knows who he is. 

“She...” Christian hesitates again and he blinks a couple of times before continuing, “she must have called all the clubs I ever played here. I don’t know how she did it and why they told her but they must've given her my number. She called two days ago, told me to move my ass here or she...” 

He falls silent, biting his lip and a soft blush creeps over his pale face. 

“...or she'd kill you?” Steve suggests quickly, grinning at the thought. Faith has always been overprotective of him. 

Christian blushes even more and nods. 

“Something like that. I... she told me about you and …” 

He jumps to his feet and paces the room, apparently trying to find words. 

Steve sits on the bed, still, watching him. He feels the shell he's been hiding in since New Year's crackling, feels all those abandoned emotions he tried to sleep off slowly but surely filling him again. He swallows hard as he feels the prickling behind his lids and his hands fist the covers under his palms. 

“What do you want, Christian??” 

Christian stops his pacing around and his wide blue eyes are burning as they find Steve's. 

“You. I always wanted you. I've never realized how fucking bad I wanted you, still want...” 

He doesn't look away, his hands are closing and opening and his jaw-muscles are twitching. 

“I thought I had managed to forget you, forget us. It took me three fucking years to get rid of your face in my mind. Five to not flinch when I heard your name. I have a wife, I have work, I can play what I want. I thought I was...well, not happy but content. But then there you were, on the stage in the bar I used to play at every fucking summer...” 

Steve gasps but he doesn't say anything, he can't. He's barely breathing, he's hanging on the lips of the man he gave his heart to so many years ago. 

“And... the years rolled back and it was just you and me again. God, you're so damn good, you have no idea, your voice... I was starstruck, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you... Thank God Carrie has her own friends here and was with them... I wouldn’t have been able to explain to her why her fucking husband was staring at a guy on that stage like a drooling teenager...” 

Steve flinches at the words; he's still struggling with the idea of the man he had the best sex with as a husband. 

Christian sees it and his expression softens. 

“I know, it feels weird to say it. We’ve been together for five and married for two years, and I'm still not used to it.” 

Steve snorts and pulls the covers higher. This is so surreal and doesn't make any sense. His mind is rattling and he feels cold sweat running down his spine. 

Christian exhales shakily before he slowly comes over to the bed and sits carefully on the end, his back to Steve, staring out of the window. 

“She's pregnant. She told me...New Year's...” 

His voice is calm but Steve sees his shoulders shaking and every fiber in him wants to take him in his arms and tell him everything will be okay. But he knows nothing is okay, and he rams his hands between his knees, bites his tongue and waits. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted kids. I'm a family guy, my sister has three and I love them as if they're my own. But now... I'm scared... and then there's you...” 

Christian turns and Steve can't suppress the strangled noise that escapes his throat. Christian's eyes are swimming in tears, he looks so vulnerable and lost and Steve's heart clenches at the sight. 

“I love you, always have. But I couldn’t admit that to myself... I know it's too fucking late now but... fuck...” 

Christian hammers a fist to the mattress, over and over again, tears run down his face and before Steve knows what he's doing he's behind him, wrapping his arms around him. 

Christian's smell hits him and he groans loudly. He buries his nose in Christian's hair, inhales his unique scent deeply, wanting to keep it for the rest of his life. 

“God, Steve...” Christian moans as Steve closes his arms tightly around him, feeling his shaking body against his own. 

Steve holds on, feeling the muscles in Christian's back against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under his palms. Christian's hand comes up, laying on Steve's arm and the touch sets sparks exploding in Steve's brain. 

“Oh, Chris...” he murmurs in the man's hair, pressing harder against his back. 

Christian's fingers slide gently over Steve's arm, leaving a burning trail on his skin and goosebumps appear instantly. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you...your touch...” Christian whispers, caressing Steve's arm with almost hypnotic motions. His hand reaches Steve's, his fingers covering Steve's, matching his grip around the other man. Carefully he loosens Steve's fingers until he can entwine their hands. He lifts them and presses faint kisses into Steve's palm. 

Steve's lids flutter and he moans lowly, his head falls on Christian's shoulder as his body slumps against the other man's back. 

Christian keeps placing butterfly kisses on Steve's palm fingers before he turns the hand over and kisses the knuckles. 

Steve groans as Christian's tongue flicks over them; he wants to let go, wants to get away but he can't move. 

Christian mouths over his wrist, grazing his teeth over the inside and Steve whines at the jolts of pleasure that shoot through his entire body. 

“What...what are you doing?” 

It takes all his willpower to ask this question but Christian's moan against his palm has him lose that last bit. 

“I wanna feel you...” he whispers and turns so Steve can see his face. 

Christian's eyes are wide open, the blue is clouded and Steve can read it all in them, all the sorrow and the regrets. It makes his heart hurt and with a tiny whimper he leans against Christian, their noses only inches away from each other; Steve can taste his breath. 

His nerves are on fire the second their lips meet, his skin feels as if it's too tight and he's oversensitive to Christian's fingertips, ghosting over his sides. 

Neither of them moves for a moment but then Christian growls lowly, his hands fly up to tangle in Steve's hair and he pulls him closer. 

His lips open and his tongue slide over the seam of Steve's. With a raw moan he opens for him and then Christian is kissing him roughly, the choked noises he makes shooting hot shivers through Steve's body. He clings to the other man, meeting his tongue eagerly, white hot flashes exploding behind his closed lids. 

The kiss is somewhat familiar and still utterly new and mind-blowing, and Steve gets lost in that feeling. 

He doesn't really notice how Christian is pushing him down until he lays on his back, Christian half on top of him, kissing him passionately, his hands roaming urgently over his sides. 

“I need you...so much...” Christian whispers against his lips as he breaks the kiss to gasp for air. 

Steve shudders at his urgent tone and pulls him back into another frantic kiss. 

He clings to him like a drowning man, kissing him with all the want and desire of those lost years, knowing it won't last but not able to deny what he needs. 

Christian's hand sneak under the shirt Steve's wearing and he yelps in shock at the warm touch. 

“You feel so fucking good...” Christian mumbles and kisses along Steve’s jaw, up and down before he slides back to nibble on his ear. 

Steve is melting under his hands and lips as his head falls back, and Christian's mouth is on his neck in an instant. His hands shove Steve's shirt up and over his head. 

Steve knows he has to stop, has to push him away but he doesn't have the strength. 

Christian shifts and his stomach rubs over Steve's hard cock and he moans, gripping harder onto Christian's shoulders. 

“Ohhh... fuck...” 

Christian bites down on Steve's collarbone, his own moans vibrating against his skin and Steve's brain just shuts down. 

He growls lowly and pulls Christian up, crashing their mouth together in a fierce kiss, not able to hold back the desperation he feels. He pushes his leg between Christian's thighs, rubbing over the bulge he feels there and the sounds Christian makes drive him crazy. 

Christian presses against him, circling his hips to get more friction on his own dick, and Steve yanks his shirt over his head. His hands run helplessly over the other man's back, feeling the smooth skin, feeling the muscles move and he knows it's too late. 

“Fuck me,” Christian pants against his chest, kissing and biting at Steve's nipples, “please, I need you, need you so much...” 

Steve's fingers dig deep in Christian's flesh at the rough tone and he tangles his legs with Christian's, rolls them over. 

He looks down into Christian's face. His eyes are dry now, blue as a fucking ocean and pleading. 

“I can’t … you're marr...” 

Christian shakes his head, his hands pushing Steve's hair out of his face, his palms warm and soothing on Steve's burning cheeks. 

“Shhh. Don’t say it... not today. It's only you and me... like back then…please?” 

He's begging and Steve's eyes fall shut at the heartbreaking plea on his face. 

Christian uses that second to claim his mouth again, kissing him deeply, wanting to make him forget – even if only for a little while. 

Steve's resistance crumbles and he sinks into the kiss, accepting the blessed oblivion it promises and he feels Christian's smile against his lips. 

Christian's hand slide between their bodies, working his belt and the buttons. Steve rolls off him and helps him shove the fabric down, his eyes gliding hungrily over Christian's now-naked body. 

There are a few more muscles, a few more scars and he runs his hand over one of them on Christian's hip; it's deep and looks pretty nasty. 

Christian shivers at the touch, one hand is playing with Steve's hair. 

“Stunt went wrong, couldn’t walk for three weeks,” he murmurs, glancing at Steve who leans down and kisses the scar softly. 

“You're beautiful,” he whispers and Christian moans. 

“C'mere,” he rasps and pulls Steve back between his spread legs; both moan as skin presses against skin, their hard cocks rubbing against each other. 

Christian kisses him again and his hands push under the fabric of Steve's boxers. 

“Get them off,” he growls and Steve complies. 

Both are sighing in bliss as their naked bodies touch again, goosebumps and small shivers running over their flesh. 

Christian's hands are combing softly through Steve's hair as he places kisses all over Christian's chest, who yelps as he bites at his nipples. Steve lets his tongue slide over the hard nubs and Christian squirms under him, moaning words neither of them understand or care about. 

But they don’t need words anyway - their hands, their lips and their bodies are speaking their own language, and they remember. 

They remember the lines and dimples they used to trace with their hands, smooth skin against sensitive fingertips.

They remember the hidden spots they kissed, driving the other one crazy with longing. 

They remember the taste and the feel of silky skin around hot hardness. 

Steve kisses every inch of skin, his hands rediscovering Christian's body and as he thinks he can't take it anymore, Christian starts begging, his hands clenching in the sheets. 

“Steve...God...please... need you now...” 

He's sweating, his skin seems to glow in the light and Steve sits back on his heels, ignoring his aching cock for a moment to drink in the sight of the other man. 

Spread on the bed, miles and miles of bronzed skin, his eyes squeezed shut, his head thrown back and breathing heavily. His cock is twitching and as Steve reaches out and brushes his finger over the hard shaft he whimpers. 

Steve bites his lip at the sound and he leans over Christian, kissing him roughly while he reaches for the nightstand and opens the drawer. 

He doesn't take his lips from the other man as he pops the bottle open with one hand. 

But he needs both hands so he breaks the kiss and sits back on his heels again. He coats his fingers, and he's not taking his eyes from the other man as he slides his hand between his wide spread legs. 

Christian groans loudly as Steve's slick fingers brush over the sensitive skin and Steve's lids flutter at the sensual sound. 

“Fuck, so hot...so fucking sexy...” he breathes as he carefully circles around Christian's opening. 

As he slowly pushes inside Christian stiffens for a second and his eyes snap open, locking with Steve's. They're almost black, the pupils are huge and Steve can't tear his gaze away as he pushes deeper. 

“Slow... been a while...”

“I know... shh.. I got ya...” Steve mumbles back, dizzy at the heat and the density inside the other man. 

He waits until Christian relaxes around his finger and adds a second, gently scissoring them to loosen the tight hole. 

Christian's hands are buried in the sheets, every muscle is working under his skin and Steve gets lost in the sight of him, losing more and more of his self control. 

Christian's cock is leaking pre-come over his stomach and as Steve leans down to lick over the head, Christian honest-to-God screams out. 

“Steve... God, fuck me now... I can't... please...” 

And Steve can't hold back anymore. He slips his fingers out, grabs Christian's hip and with one languid move he pushes inside, suddenly driven by a frenetic need to _own_ the man. 

He doesn’t give him time to adjust but rams his throbbing, aching cock deep into Christian, crying out as he hits Christian's prostate. 

Christian's hands fly around his neck and he tugs him down into a mouth-devouring kiss, all teeth and heat and _so fucking good_. 

Neither of them moves for a moment until Christian moans long and low, bucking his hips up, urging him wordlessly to move. 

Steve pulls back until only the tip is still inside Christian before he slides back, bumping against that spot inside again. 

Christian is shuddering heavily now; Steve can see the trembles running over his skin like waves. 

Steve lifts up on his hands, propping them next to Christian's head and starts moving slowly, watching every single reaction on Christian's face. 

He keeps the pace down, although it's killing him, but he wants to seize every single second. But with every thrust into the amazing heat and with every shiver and clench around him, Christian drives him closer and closer to the edge. His motions stutter, he's panting and his heart is beating too fast. 

Christian's eyes are drilling into his own; want, need and trust shining through them and Steve's throat is closing at all those feelings he sees. 

Suddenly Christian slings his legs around him, driving him deeper inside and Steve loses it. 

Two more thrusts and he's coming hard, shooting violently inside Christian. Wave after wave of pure pleasure washes over him, leaving him boneless and breathless. 

Under him Christian is growling loudly, arching into Steve before hotness spills over their stomachs. Christian's heels dig deep into Steve's lower back before he just slumps into the mattress, breathing hard against Steve's neck. 

Steve feels every tremor that shakes the other man, feels him clench around his still-jerking dick and he clings to him, collapsing onto his chest. 

Christian wraps his arms around him, holds him tightly while they gasp for air. 

As Steve's head lays on Christian's chest, he hears his rapid heartbeat slowly calm down, smells his very own scent and he presses a kiss just over his heart. 

“I love you,” he whispers, closing his eyes to hold back the tears that well up. 

Christian's grip around him tightens even more and he feels him exhale heavily. 

“I will always love you,” he murmurs into Steve's hair, his grip almost painful now. 

They stay like this for what seems an eternity before Steve's back starts cramping. With a low whine he rolls off of Christian, scowling as he slips out of him. 

He wants to get up but Christian doesn't let him. 

“No. Stay.” 

He grabs one of the sheets to clean them up a bit, throws the soiled covers on the floor and pulls Steve into his arms. Steve reaches out to get the remaining covers and they snuggle under them, seeking comfort in each other's arms. 

Neither of them says a word but their hands glide restlessly over damp skin, caressing with tender motions. 

They both know it's time to say goodbye, time to let go, end what never had a beginning. 

A tear escapes Steve's lid and falls on Christian's chest. Steve grits his teeth; he doesn't want to lose it in front of Christian but the other man felt it already. 

He closes his arms around him, one hand runs soothingly over Steve's back. He starts humming quietly, cradling Steve's neck and a tiny smile wavers over Steve's lips. 

He shifts closer and buries his face on Christian's shoulder. He kisses his salty skin and sighs deeply. 

“Won't your...” he swallows hard but tries to hold it together, “your wife wonder where you are?” 

Christian snorts softly but doesn’t stop the lazy up and down on Steve's back. 

“Nah, she's too excited about the pregnancy. She's with a friend today...” 

Steve flinches at his bitter tone and Christian instinctively coos. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “I guess that’s the last thing you wanna hear right now.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve replies but the sting in his heart tells him differently. 

They fall silent again, relishing the presence of the other one, hands trying to memorize every single line of the other man's body. 

Their lips find each other again, tongues meeting in a quiet dance, kissing the other one deep and slow, while sadness lays invisible but heavy over them. 

Steve is the one who eventually pulls back, putting the much-needed space between them, and searches Christian's eyes. 

“What are we gonna do now?” 

The words hang fatefully in the air between them; they both know there's nothing they can do. 

Christian shrugs awkwardly, reaching out for Steve but he shakes his head. 

“No, Christian. You're a married man, a soon-to-be father, for fuck's sake. Am I right that you live here? In London?” 

Christian nods, a sad smile lingering over his bruised lips. 

“Only over the summer. The winters we're in Nashville but she's from here and wanted to spend Christmas here. Now I guess it's also to tell them... well, I'm not sure how long she'll be able to fly and if she even wants to, when…well, ya know...” 

He sighs; his eyes are shimmering turquoise in the fading light. 

“God, Steve, so much time... wasted... because of a fucking wrong number and me being an ass...” 

Steve grins but it feels odd. 

“Idiot maybe...” 

Christian lips twitch as he smiles but it falters as quickly as it came. 

“Steve...”

Steve shakes his head again, tearing his eyes away from the other man. 

“Would you leave her? Would you leave her... for me? Would you leave your wife and your unborn child? For somebody you don’t really know... a man, no less…?” 

Steve's voice is hard but his hands are shaking and he clenches them into fists to stop it. 

He hears Christian's groan and it sounds like a wounded animal. 

“God, I... don’t know... I...” 

“Don't. I know you won't. And I don’t want you to. Fuck, I've dreamed of you every fucking night, I couldn’t forget you, but I can't ask that from you,” he says, blinking the tears away. 

Christian curses harshly and rolls out of the bed; Steve curls around himself to keep his warmth only a tad bit longer. 

He watches how Christian collects his clothes and gets dressed. He turns and Steve whimpers at the deep sadness in his eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” Christian whispers as he sits on the side of the bed, wanting to reach out for Steve, but his hand falls on the bed and he growls lowly. 

“I know,” Steve hushes and his own hand sneaks out from under the sheets and brushes quickly over Christian. Both men shiver before Christian gets up and grabs his jacket. 

Wordlessly he walks to the door; he turns and Steve cringes hard as he sees the tear running down his cheek. But he keeps his back straight and his voice is steady. 

“Goodbye Steve. I'll never forget you.” 

“I won't forget you either,” Steve replies, his own voice shaking, but he holds himself together; he doesn't have to make this harder than it already is. 

“Oh, please tell Faith not to kill me, would you?” 

A smirk flickers over his face and Steve mirrors it. 

“I will.” 

Without another word Christian turns and is out the door before Steve can even blink. 

The door closes with a silent click and only the faint smell of Christian's aftershave in the air lingers a little longer. 

Steve sits on the bed, the covers pulled close around him, just staring into the empty room. 

Outside the sun sinks behind the horizon, giving way to another cold, dark winter night.

 

  


 


End file.
